A Study In Pink
by Dustfingers-Angel
Summary: (Featuring my OC) A string of apparent suicides has Scotland Yard baffled in London 2010, and officials turn to their consultants, Sherlock Holmes and Charlotte James, for assistance. Part of my Charlie James series - sequel to New Year, prequel to Lazy Morning. Disclaimer; I don't own Sherlock
1. Army Doctor

_The ex-military doctor woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath after the memories of Afghanistan had revisited him in his dreams. He had bolted upright as he woke, now he struggled for breath before flopping back down, bringing his hand to his face. The doctor sobbed quietly in despair._ _Across the room stood the walking stick – a constant reminder; nobody could possibly understand how much he despised it._

* * *

 _Breakfast was made. The mug was placed down on the table with its army insignia, next to the shiny green apple. The doctor opened the desk drawer and retrieved his laptop, revealing the gun he kept underneath; it was the second reminder of what he had lost. The ex-military man stared blankly at the laptop screen that was showing him the empty blog headed with his name – it didn't help._

* * *

 _Now he sat across from her_ _"How's your blog going?" she asked.  
_

 _After a second he answered, "Yeah good" he cleared his throat "very good."  
_

 _"You haven't wrote a word, have you?" the pity resounded in her voice, it wasn't a question.  
_

 _"You just wrote 'still has trust issues'" he pointed out.  
_

 _"And you read my writing upside down" she looked at him full of sympathy "you see what I mean?"  
_

 _He smiled a little in acknowledgement.  
_

 _"John, you're a soldier, it's going to take a while to adjust to civilian life" she reassured him, John didn't reply "And writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you"  
_

 _John stared at her for a second before eventually stating with a skeptical tone, "Nothing happens to me"_

* * *

 **October 12th. A married man dies. Suspected suicide. No prior implications of suicide.**

* * *

 **November 26th. An 18 year old boy dies. Suspected suicide. No prior implications of suicide.**

* * *

 **January 27th. A young woman dies. Suspected suicide. No prior implications of suicide.**

* * *

 _"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?"_

 _"Well," the DI started "they all took the same poison, they were all found in places they had no reason to be and none of them showed any prior implications of-" Greg Lestrade was then cut off by the reporter._

 _"But you can't have serial suicides!"_

 _"Well apparently you can" he answered sharply._

 _"These three people, there's nothing that links them?" questioned another reporter._

 _"There's none to be found yet but we're looking for there to be one"_

 _Suddenly the phones of everyone in the room called out an alert to say that they had received a message. Automatically, everyone checked their phone._

 **Wrong!**

 _"If you've all got texts please ignore them!" Donovan announced in panicked anger._

 _"It just says 'wrong'"_

 _"Well just ignore that" she snapped huffily, "If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade I'm going to bring this session to an end"_

 _There was a loud rabble from the reporters but one voice rang out louder, "If they're suicides, what are you investigating?"_

 _Lestrade hesitated, "As I said, these suicides are clearly linked, um, it's an unusual situation, we've got our best people investigating."_

 _Again phones called out._

 **Wrong!**

 _"It says 'wrong' again"_

 _"One more question" Donovan called._

 _"Is there any chance these are murders? And if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?"_

 _Again Lestrade took a second to gather his thoughts, "I know you like writing about this but they do appear to be suicides, we know the difference; the poison was clearly self administered-"_

 _"Yes but if these are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?"_

 _"Well don't commit suicide" Lestrade snapped._

 _He was met by silence._

 _"Daily Mail" Donovan whispered to him under her breath_

 _You could all but see the think bubble 'Oh' appear above his head. "Obviously this is a frightening time for people but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be"_

 _Once again, the phones rang out._

 **Wrong!**

 _Then just a second after, Lestrade's phone received a single text._

 **You know where to find us –SH**

 _Pocketing the phone, Lestrade stood "Thank you" he muttered and left._

* * *

 _John Watson was walking in the park; the fresh air was supposed to be doing him some good._

 _"John?" a voice called from behind him "John Watson?" Confused, John looked back over his shoulder, then turned around. "Stanford, Mike Stanford!"_

 _Mike spoke enthusiastically, ever the talkative one. "Last time I hear you were in Afghanistan getting shot at, what happened?"_

 _John smiled grimly, "Got shot"_

 _They sat on a bench and spoke idly for some time; what you doing now? What you up to?_

 _"I don't know, get a flat share or something" Mike suggested._

 _"Come on, who'd want me for a flat mate?"_

 _Mike laughed._

 _"What?" John frowned._

 _"You're one of three people who's said that to me today"_

 _John blinked a few times, "Who were the other two?"_


	2. Introductions

In the morgue, a tall, dark hair man unzipped a black body bag, quickly examining what he saw. "How fresh?" he asked, noncommittally .

"Just in I'd say" Charlie added, trying to peer over the older man's shoulder from her spot on top of a filing cabinet.

"Yeah," confirmed Molly "67, natural causes. He used to work here, I knew him, he was nice"

Sherlock rezipped the bag, "Fine, we'll start with the riding crop" he smiled, to anyone other than the two women in the room it would have come off as fairly creepy.

"Here," Charlie tossed the crop across the room over Molly's head, "have fun" she teased sarcastically. Molly came over to stand near Charlie, the two woman watching as the young man started repeatedly beating the corpse with unnecessary violence.

"He having a bad day?" Molly asked casually, looking up at Charlie where she sat.

"Well, he's got to vent his frustration somehow - I'd rather he didn't do it in the flat"

They laughed quietly as Sherlock returned into the room. He frowned at them slightly but dismissed it with a shake of the head from Charlie. "I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes a man's alibi depends on it, text me"

Molly nodded, having taken a few steps closer to Sherlock while he spoke, Molly asked timidly, "Listen, I was wondering, when you're finished-"

"Are you wearing lipstick, you weren't wearing lipstick before" Sherlock interrupted, thinking out loud. Charlie cringed a little, then sighed.

"I, eh, I refreshed it a bit" Molly muttered.

Sherlock contemplated the elder of the two women for a second, then glanced to Charlie who shook her head silently – the signal to shut up. "Sorry" Sherlock smiled, "You were saying?"

"I was wondering if you would like to have coffee"

"Black, two sugars – Charlie takes milk and one, thanks, we'll be upstairs" and with that he left.

Charlie jumped down from the filing cabinet, the jump emphasising her shortness. "You can only try Molly" she offered sympathetically before dashing off after Sherlock.

"Yeah, okay" Molly muttered as she was left by herself with the corpse of her ex-colleague.

* * *

John and Mike walked into the lab to see the tall, pale, genius leaning over a microscope working on some kind of experiment. Sitting cross-legged on the worktop next to him was a young woman with light brown hair and a phone in her hand. Mike opened the door and let John in before quietly closing it behind him.

"A bit different from my day" John comment to Mike.

He was about to reply when Sherlock interrupted, "Mike can I borrow your phone, there's no signal on mine" Both had their heads down, focused on what they were doing.

"What's wrong with the landline?" he asked.

"Oh I prefer to text"

"Sorry" Mike said "it's in my coat, but if you look to your right you'll see your 'associate' is holding hers"

"Ha" Charlie laughed "No, he's not getting my phone – not after last time!" Charlie didn't look up. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't that bad"

"Not that bad? Insurance doesn't cover acid damage"

They glared at each other for a second them Charlie stuck her tongue out, Sherlock smirked then both returned back to their previous engagements.

"Eh, here," John offered hesitantly "use mine"; as far as he could see, there were no potentially damaging liquids within arms reach of the strange duo. John didn't quite know what to make of them, they were odd – not that they appeared strange, just _different_ ; John supposed they were fine.

"Oh" Sherlock sat up straight, looking slightly confused, as if he hadn't noticed the other older man. He glanced from John to Mike and back again, walking over to retrieve the phone, he said "Thank you"

Mike smiled awkwardly, "This is an old friend of mine - John Watson"

Sherlock glanced up from the phone for a moment to study it's owner. He looked back down at the phone, continuing to type, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Charlie looked up to watch the conversation unfold, as he said, "...I'm sorry?" his brow was furrowed.

Sherlock paid no notice, "Which was it? Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John stared for a second, "...Afghanistan. I'm sorry, how did you-?"

At that moment Molly appeared with a tray of mugs. Sherlock smiled widely, "Coffee! Thank you, Molly - what happened to the lipstick?" He picked up the mug that he frequently used, as well as the one next to it that Charlie used. He turned and passed Charlie her coffee.

"It... wasn't working for me" Molly mumbled self-consciously. Sherlock was about to reply but Charlie caught his eye with a warning in her own. He shut his mouth again.

Molly knew too well the silent exchange that had taken place, with a shy little nod to John and Mike, she pushes the door back open and goes on her business.

Charlie took a sip of her coffee, placing it down, she tilted her head to see past Sherlock to the other two men. That action seemed to spark a reminder in Sherlock's brain, he spun round on his heels. Charlie was quietly thankful he's put his mug down. The strange genius tossed the phone back to it's owner, who caught it expertly.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"He plays the violin from time to time, when he's thinking and that" Charlie explained, though that didn't really clear things up.

"Yes, and sometimes I don't talk for days on end - would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." He offered a small smile.

John frowned and turned to Mike, "You told him about me?"

Mike was thoroughly amused, like he always seemed to be around Sherlock. He looked at John, grinning, "Not a word"

John seemed to frown even harder as he turned back to Sherlock, "...then who said anything about flatmates?"

"We did" Charlie said, Sherlock moved aside out of John's line of sight to the woman, "We said to Mike this morning that we'd be difficult people to find another flatmate for"

Sherlock continued, "Now he turns up after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. It wasn't a difficult leap"

"...how _did_ you know about Afghanistan?" John asked.

But by the time he was finished the question, Sherlock had become distracted again. "We've had our eyes on a nice little place in central London - together we could afford it. We'll meet there, tomorrow evening, 7 o'clock" he grabbed his coat, pulling it on - with a gesture of his head he motion for Charlie to get up. He turned back to John and Mike, "Sorry, got to dash - I think I've left my riding crop in the mortuary"

As Charlie pushed herself down off the table, John stared blankly at Sherlock, "Is that it?"

He tilted his head slightly, "Is that what?"

The older man looked at him in disbelief, "We've just met and we're going to go and look at a flat?"

"Problem?"

Outraged would be to strong a word for the look of his face, but it was the closest that could have been assigned, "We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know your name. I don't even know where we're meeting!"

Almost simultaneously, Sherlock and Charlie broke into small grins. Sherlock took a small step forward, "I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother with a bit of money who's worried about you," Charlie frowned a second as she considered that statement, but her disagreement went unnoticed as he continued, "but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him - possibly because he's an alcoholic, but more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic - quite correctly, I'm afraid. That's enough to be getting on with, don't you think?"

John stared at him, completely in shock, slight fear, and pure awe. Sherlock smiles smuggly, turns on his heels and goes to walk out, Charlie close beside him, but he paused just a moment, leaning back round the door, "The name's Sherlock Holmes, this is Charlie James, and the address is 221B Baker Street."

Charlie nodded and smiled, in unison they said, "Afternoon" and walked out.

John stared at the door for a few seconds before turning to Mike, unasked questions in his look, "Yeah" Mike nodded, "They're always like that"


	3. The flat

The taxi pulled up outside 221B Baker Street, and Sherlock and Charlie climbed out. Seeing John Watson about to ring the doorbell, Sherlock called, "Hi" as he paid the taxi driver through the front passenger window. Charlie stood on the curb and waiting for him before they went to join John as a pair.

John blinked hard, looking again at them both – the strange couple were dressed almost as twins; both wearing dark trousers and tops and the same style of jacket, though Charlie's was obviously too large; the edges of the shoulders came down over to her arms, the cuffs were folded back up on themselves, the bottom of the coat grazing near the bottom of her calves, though Sherlock's only came to his knees. John correctly assumed that it had once belonged to the younger man.

"Mr Holmes, Miss James" he greeted as the two drew closer.

Sherlock smiled, "Just Sherlock, please"

"And it's just Charlie, thanks, John" the woman added politely.

John nodded then turned to look the property up and down, "Prime spot. Got to be expensive" He was stilled worried that the flat wouldn't be affordable for the three of them combined, as he rang the doorbell.

"Mrs Hudson, the landlady. She's giving us a special deal" Sherlock said with a smirk at the door.

Charlie nodded, "She owes us a favour – a few years ago her husband got himself a death sentence in Florida. We were able to help her out."

John raised an eyebrow, "You stopped her husband being executed?"

Sherlock said, "Oh no, we ensured it." The way he smiled didn't reassure John in anyway, neither did the confirming look Charlie gave him.

Then the door opened and an elder woman appeared, a wide smile on her face, "Sherlock! Charlie!" Sherlock smiled and nodded, allowing himself to be hugged by Mrs Hudson, when he stepped aside Charlie was quickly embraced too. Then she turned to John, "And you must be Doctor Watson" she shook his hand enthusiastically, "Oh, come on inside, come on"

Mrs Hudson led the three of them upstairs to officially view the apartment. Charlie walked in ahead of the two men, looking around happily at the spacious room. She moved out the way of the men, to the other side of the room where she leant against the edge of the sofa, from where she took note of the chaotic state of the room.

"Well" John stated, looking around and nodding to himself, "this could be very nice. Very nice indeed"

Sherlock smiled, almost pridefully, "Yes, I think so. My thoughts exactly," just as he continued, John started;

"Soon as we get this rubbish cleared out"  
"So we went and moved in"

Charlie cringed at the exchange.

John glanced around again, "So this is all...?"

"Obviously we can straighten things up a bit"

But John's attention was elsewhere, "That's a skull"

"Friend of mine." Sherlock half shrugged, "Well, I say friend..."

There was a beat of awkward silence, before Mrs Hudson returned to the room, "What do you think Dr Watson - there's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms"

"Two?" John frowned, utterly confused, "Surely we'll be needing three?"

"We have an arrangement" Charlie said quickly, not looking at anyone as she did.

John looked between Charlie and Sherlock for a moment - he was convinced that there was nothing between them yesterday, but now he was confused. "Well anyway, we'll be needing two bedrooms."

"Oh don't you worry, we get all sorts round here. I'm sure you can fit a larger bed in their room if you move things around. Don't worry yourselves - you know, Mrs Turner next door's got married ones"

Charlie and John individually stare at the floor for a few seconds, trying to pretend the conversation never happened. John cleared his throat, "Looked you up on the internet last night, Sherlock"

He raised his eyebrows, happily surprised, "Anything interesting?"

"Found your website - 'The Science of Deduction'"

He tilted his head, a smirk forming on his lips, "What did you think?" Charlie rolled her eyes at Sherlock's ill disguised ego.

John however looked vaguely unimpressed, "You said you could identify a software designer from his tie, and an airline pilot by his left thumb"

"Yes." Sherlock said, "And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and the drinking habits of your brother in your mobile phone" Again, Charlie pulled a face at Sherlock's last statement, clearly unsure whether her friend was right.

"How?" John asked.

But before Sherlock could answer, Mrs Hudson reappeared from the kitchen with the newspaper, looking down at it as she asked, "What about these suicides then, Sherlock? Though that would be right up your street, no? Charlie? Three of them, exactly the same. That's a bit funny, isn't it?"

As she spoke, Sherlock caught something out of the corner of his eye, and went over to the window. When she stopped, Sherlock said "Four"

Charlie looked up, "There's been a fourth?" she got up and went to his side, looking down to Baker Street below.

"Yes," he said, musing, "And there's something different this time"

"A fourth?" Mrs Hudson asked, "How do you know?

"Look outside" Charlie said, watching the police car parked outside. Suddenly from the hall they can hear quick, heavy footsteps. The door is opened to reveal Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"Where?" Sherlock all but demanded.

"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens" the DI answered quickly.

"What's different about this one?" Charlie asked, "You wouldn't have bothered coming if there wasn't something else for us"

Lestrade nodded, "You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah" Charlie said, nodding with a smile.

"This one did. Will you come?" he asked, looking at them both.

Sherlock contemplated for a second, "Who's on Forensics?"

"Anderson"

Sherlock screwed up his face, "Anderson won't work with us"

Lestrade groaned, "He won't be your assistant"

"But we need an assistant" Sherlock huffed.

"Will you come?"

"Not in a police car, we'll be right behind you, Lestrade" Charlie said before Sherlock could complain any further.

The DI let out a sigh of relief, "Thank you" he said before turning and heading out to the car out front. As Charlie zipped her jacket back up and checked she had everything she needed with her, Sherlock had began to grin widely. Sudden he jumped up, punching the air, letting out a whoop of joy, " _Brilliant_ " Energetically, he leapt across the sofa to the desk on the far side of the room, where he started grabbing items and stuffing them in his pockets. As he did he ranted, "And I thought it was going to be a boring evening. Serial suicides, and now a note - oh it's Christmas. Mrs Hudson we'll be late - might need some food"

Charlie grabbed the door holding it open for him as Mrs Hudson called after them, "I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper"

"Something cold is fine" Sherlock called back from the top of the stairs, "John make yourself at home - have a cuppa! Don't wait up!

"See you later" Charlie called as they both started down the stairs.

They were at the front door when Sherlock suddenly turned on his heels, almost letting Charlie walk right into him, "What?" she asked.

He stopped still for a second, his brain running at speed, "John Watson" he said, then ran back upstairs, Charlie trailing after him. "You're a doctor" Sherlock said, reentering the flat, surprising John. "In fact, you're an army doctor"

"Yes" John said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Any good?"

John sat up straighter, his professional pride showing, "Very good" he stood up.

Sherlock smirked, "Seen a lot of injuries then. Violent deaths?"

"Well, yes"

"Bit of trouble too, I bet" Sherlock continued. Behind him Charlie leant against the door frame, arms folded, having realised what Sherlock was up to.

"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much" John said, without any real conviction to his words.

Sherlock smirked, "Want to see some more?"

"Oh, God yes"

Charlie shook her head, "Well, you better get your coat then" as Sherlock dashed past her back down the stairs, "We'll call a taxi" she added, turning and following after Sherlock. John followed not far behind.


	4. Consulting Detectives

John sat in the back of the taxi, Charlie to his right, with Sherlock to the right of her. Sherlock was excited, sitting forward with his knees on his thigh, his phone in hand, scrolling through something or other. Charlie sat back, her eyes drifting from looking out one side of the taxi to the other, and occasionally to the back of the driver's head, but John could see her brain working behind her eyes - she was thinking, quick as lightning, focused as a sniper on their target.

John's mind too was in over drive, as he tried to process exactly what had happened in the last 24 hours. He ran over it mentally, trying to process every detail. He'd went a walk and met Mike, who took him to a morgue to meet two strangers, who told him that they were going to be his flatmates. He had gotten up the next day, and gone to meet these two strangers (who were only proving every moment he was with them that they were even stranger than they'd first appeared) to look at a flat together. While looking at said flat, a police detective had appeared and told these two strangers details about a suicide, and with that the two strangers had dropped everything to go and investigate. And then he'd managed to rope himself into it all. That was a lot to process for a retired army doctor.

John tried, with little success, to figure out anything he could about these two people who were apparently, from the looks of things, going to be his new flatmates. He played out the conversations he'd heard them having, the way they spoke to each other and other people. As they'd been coming out of 221B, Sherlock had told Mrs Hudson " _Sorry, Mrs Hudson, we'll skip the cup_ pa - off out"

She'd looked incredulous, _"The three of you?"_

But Sherlock had grinned _, "Impossible suicides - four of them. No point in sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!"_

 _"Look at you all happy. It's not decent."_ she'd said. Charlie had given her an apologetic smile, but was quickly out the door behind him, John not far behind. He'd just shut the door as Sherlock yelled, _"Taxi!"_ And now they were here.

From where he was sitting, leant forward, Sherlock turned to look at John, "Okay, you've got questions"

John nodded, "Where are we going?"

"Crime scene"

"Lauriston Gardens" Charlie added, she'd twisted slightly to face him.

"Next?" Sherlock asked.

"Who are you? What do you do?" John looked between them.

Sherlock answered, "What do you think?"

"I'd say you were private detectives but..."

"But?" Charlie looked curious as she waited for his answer.

"The police don't go to private detectives"

They smiled. Sherlock said, "We're _consulting_ detectives. Only ones in the world, I invented the job."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Charlie explained, "that when the police are out of their depth-"

"Which is always" Sherlock interupted.

Charlie gave him a look, but continued, "that they consult us"

He frowned, "But the police don't consult... amateurs"

Sherlock looked at him sharply, but Charlie smiled, "We're not"

The statement hung in the air for a moment before Sherlock said, "When we first met you yesterday, I said Afghanistan or Iraq? You seemed surprised."

"How did you know?"

"I didn't know, I saw. Tanned face but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad but not sunbathing. The haircut and the way you hold yourself says military - but your conversation with Mike as you entered the room says you trained at Barts So, army doctor. Obvious. Your limp is bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand like you've forgotten about it - so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says that the circumstances of the original injury were traumatic - wounded in action then. Wounded in action, a suntan - Afghanistan or Iraq"

John stared for a moment, "You said I had a therapist"

You've got a psychosomatic limp, of course you have a therapist. Then there was the phone. It's expensive, email enabled, mp3 player. You're looking for a flat share so obviously you wouldn't spend money on this, so it's a gift then. There's scratches - not just one but many over time. Been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man in front of me wouldn't treat a luxury item like this, so there's been a previous owner. Next bit's easy you know it already - the engraving."

 **Harry Watson**

 **From Clara**

 **xxx**

"Harry Watson, clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live - it's unlikely you've got an extended family, certain not one you're close to. So brother it is. Now Clara, who's Clara - three kisses says it's a romantic attachment, the expense of the phone says wife not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently, this model's only six months old. It's a marriage in trouble then - six months on and he's just given it away. If she'd left him he'd have kept the phone - people do, sentiment - but he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation but you're not going to your brother for help, that says you've got a problem with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you didn't like his drinking-"

"How could you possibly know about the drinking?" John asked.

"Shot in the dark, but a good one. The power connection. The tiny little scuff marks all round it - he plugs it in every night to charge but his hands are shaking." Sherlock smiled, proudly.

"Sister" Charlie said.

Sherlock frowned, "What?" then he realized and the irritation was plain on his face, "Oh"

John smiled amused, "How did you know and he didn't?"

Sherlock looked unamused as Charlie said "Life experience. There were a couple of things. First off, going back to the phone - men are men, and I'd say the large majority wouldn't want to walk around with a phone that has three kisses on the back, so they would have covered it up with a case and make the excuse of protecting the phone. But your phone has never had a case on it, you'd see the markings on the side from where the phone wouldn't get scratched because of where the case was. So no case, showing off the inscription - generally a proud lesbian or bisexual would show off sentiment from their partner as a statement of pride. Secondly, and this is my personal experience - good men with sisters look at women differently from men who don't. Now, I'll take liberties and say you're a good man, you were an army doctor, that makes sense. When we first met you looked at my face - I know, that's nothing, but you'd be surprised. When you did look at me in whole you looked at my clothes, my height and my stance - not the shape of my body. You addressed me as equally as you did Sherlock, even though I'm a much younger woman - which would also suggest your sister is younger than you too. Last, Sherlock," she turned to look at him, "I would have thought with having lived with a woman called Charlie for as long as you have, you might have considered it was a nickname" John's face was a picture of awe. She turned back to look at him as Sherlock all but pouted, "So you see John, you were right"

John frowned, "I was right? About what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs"

Charlie turn to look at Sherlock and give him a playful nudge, winding him up for the misdeduction. John stared, "That was... amazing. Both of you."

That got a smile back on Sherlock's face, "Do you think so?"

He nodded, "Well of course it was. It was extraordinary. Quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people usually say" Sherlock said.

"What do they usually say?"

Charlie laughed, "Piss off"


	5. Donovan and Anderson

They got out of the taxi, Sherlock holding the door for Charlie at his side while John got out the other. The _consulting detectives_ walked side by side towards the crime scene, watching officers go in and out, mentally noting who was there. John walked a fraction behind them, almost by their side but not quite. "Look," he said, "what exactly am I supposed to be doing here" But Sherlock was still grumbling about John's _sister_ , and Charlie was more focused on the crime scene and officers that were present."No, seriously, why am I here?" but he didn't get an answer.

As they got closer they were intercepted by an officer, who stood right in their way. "Evening Sergeant Donovan" Charlie said, her voice clipped.

"Hello Freaks"

Her words didn't seem to phase Sherlock, as he said, "We're here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade"

"Why?"

"We were invited"

"Why?"

Charlie rolled her eyes, "You know, I think he wants us to take a look" she said, overly sarcastic.

Donovan all but pouted,"Well you know what _I_ think"

"Always Sally," Sherlock said, politely, though his voice was low, "I even know you didn't make it home last night"

She looked irritated but refused to acknowledge the comment, she looked at John, "Who's this?"

Sherlock glanced at John before answering, "Colleague of ours, Dr Watson." he turned to John, making introductions between the two, "Dr Watson - Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend"

She scoffed, "A colleague? How'd you get a colleague? Did he follow you home?"

John had grown more uncertain of the situation as things had gone on, now he though the best thing he could do was leave, "Look, would it be better if I just-"

"No" Charlie said, not incredibly loudly, but he tone of her voice was enough to end the conversation.

Donovan turned away from them, speaking into her walkie-talkie loud enough for them to hear, "The freaks are here. Bringing them in"

Sherlock held up the crime scene tape, ducking underneath before letting Charlie then John through as well. The three of them made there was up to the house, but were met by another uniform in their way. Charlie sighed quietly, stuffing her hands in her pockets as Sherlock grinned, politely as possible, "Anderson, here we are again"

The man in front of them screwed up his face, "It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

"And is your wife away long?"

Anderson's face fell, he frowned angrily, "Don't pretend you worked that out. Someone _told_ you!"

"Yes," Charlie said, calmly but so sarcastically, "because we have friendly chats with your colleagues _so_ often"

Sherlock sniggered quietly, "You're deodorant told me that" he said in way of an explanation.

"My deodorant?"

"It's for men"

"Of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!" he fumed.

"So's Sergeant Donovan" Charlie said, evenly.

Anderson and Donovan shared a look of panic. Sherlock continued, "Oh, and I think it's just vapourised. May we go in?"

Anderson was flustered, "You listen to me, okay. Whatever you're trying to imply-"

"I'm not implying anything," Sherlock said, "I'm sure Sally just came round for a lovely little chat and happened to stay over."

"And I'm assuming she must have scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees" Both Anderson and John choked as Charlie said so casually.

"Right! Just go in, just go!" Anderson yelled.

"Thank you" Charlie smiled.


	6. Pink

They climbed the stairs to meet DI Lestrade at the top. "I can give you two minutes"

"We might need longer" Sherlock told him.

Lestrade shook his head but led them through. Charlie picked up a crime scene overall, glancing at it a moment for size, before handing it to John, "You'll need to put this on" She told him.

Lestrade frowned past the two familiar consulting detectives to John, "Who is this?"

"He's with us" Sherlock said as John pulled on the overall, half way through he realised he was the only one doing so.

"But who is he?" Lestrade asked again.

"Told you," Charlie said, "he's with us"

John looked between them as they looked back at him, "Aren't you going to...?" he gestured to the overall. Sherlock gave him a look, but Charlie shook her head.

"So where are we?" Sherlock asked.

Lestrade sighed, "Upstairs"

As the approached the actual crime scene Lestrade explained, "Jennifer Wilson, according to her credit cards - we're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long, some kids found her." Lestrade pushed open the door, showing them in.

The room itself was dark, rotting, molded. It smelt damp and dusty. John took a moment to get used to it as Charlie turned up her nose. Nearly in the centre of the room, lay the victim. Middle aged woman, dressed all in pink, from her raincoat, to her skirt to her shoes - the dress sense made Charlie turn up her nose more so.

They stood for a moment before Sherlock almost randomly said, "Shut up" in Lestrade's general direction.

"Didn't say anything" he protested.

"You were thinking. It's annoying" Charlie rolled her eyes at Sherlock out crossed the room to examine the victim anyway.

Sherlock joined her, crouching down for a better view. He'd always said to Charlie he couldn't understand how she though she could solve anything when she was looking down from standing height - usually she'd tell him she clearly had better eye sight; which had quickly became a running joke, with her wearing glasses. They managed to silently communicate with subtle hand gestures, movements of he head and glances, making it look like they were often reading each other's minds.

 _Married._

 _RACHE_  
 _\- left handed_  
 _\- rache; German - revenge_  
 _rache-_  
 _\- Rachel_

 _Wet coat_  
 _Dry umbrella_  
 _Wet under collar_

 _Necklace - clean_  
 _Earrings - clean_  
 _Bracelet - clean_  
 _Wedding and engagement rings - dirty_

 _Married;_  
 _Unhappily married_  
 _10+ years_

 _Outside of rings - dirty_  
 _Inside of rings - clean_  
 _Regularly removed_

 _Serial adulterer_

Sherlock stood and looked to Charlie, who nodded. Lestrade asked, "Got anything?"

They smiled, "Not much"

A voice from the door said, "She's German" Their faces fell as the saw Anderson looking in. Sherlock pulled out his phone as Anderson continued, "Rache is German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something"

Charlie had marched her way over to the door, "Yes thank you for your input she said shortly before half slamming the door shut in his face.

"She's German...?" Lestrade looked from Sherlock to Charlie.

"No" Charlie said.

"Of course she's not German. She's from out of town though. Planned to spend a single night in London before returning home to Cardiff. So far so obvious"

"Sorry, obvious?" John frowned in confusion.

Lestrade tilted his head, reading the etched writing on the floor again, "But what about the message?"

"Dr Watson, what do you think?" Sherlock asked.

All John could do again was frown, "About the message?"

"Of the body, you're a medical man"

"We have a whole team right outside!" Lestrade sighed in exasperation.

"They won't work with us" Charlie reminded him.

"Sherlock I was breaking all the rules to start with letting you in - then Charlie too!"

"Yes" Sherlock looked over to him, "Because you need us"

Lestrade sighed, "Yes I do" he let out a quiet, "God help me"

There was a silence before it was obvious that Lestrade had backed down and given in. Sherlock said, "Dr Watson" gesturing to the victim on the floor. John looked back for a second, unsure before he caught Charlie's eyes - she flashed him a smile and gave him a nod. John looked to Lestrade for some form of guidence.

"Oh do as he says, help yourself" Lestrade shrugged, leaning back against the wall.

John stepped forward and knelt beside the body, Sherlock and Charlie came over, standing side by side. From such a low vantage point, the pair seemed more threatening that he would have thought possible. Sherlock crouched down, "Well?"

"What am I doing here?" John whispered.

"Helping me make a point"

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay rent!" John hissed.

"Yeah, this is more fun"

"Fun? There's a woman lying dead!"

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper"

John stared at him for a second, then up at Charlie, before taking a breath. He quickly examined her, "Asphyxiation probably. Passed out, and choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her - could have been a seizure, probably drugs."

"You know what it is" Charlie said, "You've read the papers"

"She's one of the suicides. The fourth one" He said uncertainly.

"Right, two minutes I said" Lestrade urged, "Need anything you've got"

Sherlock glanced quickly to Charlie, she nodded for him to go ahead, "Victim is in her late forties. Professional person going by her clothes - I'd guess something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. She's travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay for one night - that's obvious from the size of her suitcase-"

Lestrade interrupted, "Suitcase?"

"Suitcase, yes. She's been married for at least ten years but not happily. She's had a string of lovers, but none of them have known she's married. We know from her suitcase that she's staying overnight so she must have come a decent distance. But she couldn't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat hasn't dried. So where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" he held up his phone for them to see, "Cardiff"

"Fantastic" John breathed.

Charlie smirked as she looked at him, "You know you'll only make his ego even larger if you keep that up"

John suddenly looked embarrassed, "Sorry, I'll shut up"

"No it's fine" Sherlock said quickly. Charlie smiled but shook her head.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade frowned, utterly confused.

Charlie looked around briefly at the room, "Yeah, where is it? It's probably got her phone or organiser or something in it, that'll help us figure out who Rachel is"

Lestrade asked, "She was writing Rachel?"

"No, she was writing an angry note in German - of course she was writing Rachel, there's no other word it can be. Question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?" Charlie nodded.

Lestrade stared between them, "How do you know she had a suitcase?"

"The back of her right leg." Charlie nodded, "There's little splashes on the back of her heel and her calf on her right leg - it's not there on her left leg. She was pulling a suitcase with her right hand; you only get that splash pattern that way. It must be a smallish case, going by the pattern. Judging by her having a case that size, and her style choices, it could only be an overnight bag - so she was staying for just a night."

"So where is it?" Sherlock asked, almost demanded of Lestrade, "What have you done with it?"

But he looked back blankly, "There wasn't a case"

Charlie frowned, "What?"

Sherlock stared, "Say that again?"

Lestrade, more confused than ever, told them, "There wasn't a suitcase. There was never any suitcase here"

"Ah" Charlie sighed, biting her lip.

Sherlock stood straight, eyes wide. He rushed out the room, pushing past Lestrade, shouting downstairs, "Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?" Charlie followed behind him. From the lack of response, the answer was clear.

Lestrade traipsed after them, "Sherlock, there was no case"

Charlie turned to him, "There's no case here"

"Charlie, look at me" Sherlock said distractedly.

Immediately she turned face on to him, looking up at him, she nodded, "Go"

Sherlock focused on her as he spouted out his logic, "March 12th, male in his mid forties. April 26th, 18 year old male. June 8th, younger woman. Now a woman in her mid forties. None of them previously suspected of suicide. None of them left a proper suicide note. It's varied, victims of opportunity clearly... But they take the poison themselves. They chew and swallow the pills _themselves_ , there are clear signs - even _they_ couldn't miss them" he nodded off at Lestrade as he said _'they'_.

"Oh thanks" Lestrade remarked, but neither of them were listening.

"It's murder. All of them. I don't know how, but they're _not_ suicides, they're killings - serial killings. We've got a serial killer" he smirked, muttering quieter to only Charlie, "Love those, there's always something to look forward to" she shook her head slightly, but couldn't help the slight smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. ""Where's her case?" Sherlock continued, his voice having returned to a normal volume, "Come on, come on, she didn't eat it! Someone else was here - and they took the case. So the killer must have driven her here, forgot the case was in the car..."

John suggested, "Maybe she checked herself into her hotel, left her case there?"

Sherlock turned to look at John and frowned, "She never made it to her hotel. Look at her hair; she colour coordinates her lipstick and her shoes, she'd never have left a hotel with her hair like- " he froze, his eyes widening and his mouth opening into an 'o' shape. Charlie suddenly smiled and nodded. "Oh! _Oh!_ "

John frowned, "... Sherlock?"

Sherlock grabbed Charlie by the hand and began to run down the stairs, Charlie following easily behind him, "Serial killers are always hard. You've got to wait for them to make a mistake" he called up the stairs.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade yelled.

"Oh we're done waiting. Look at her, really look! Houston - we have a mistake!" Charlie rolled her eyes, but didn't get the chance to explain what was meant as Sherlock continued, "Get on to Cardiff, find Jennifer Wilson's family and friends; find Rachel-"

Lestrade huffed, "Of course, yes. But what mistake?"

But Sherlock's nearly out the door. Charlie called up to them as she left, still hand in hand with him, "Pink!"


	7. Donovan

Lestrade had sighed, ran his hand over her face. Anderson rolled his eyes, mentally cursing; "Okay, let's get on with it" he shouted to the rest of the team. Everyone in the building had heard the exchange. John Watson stood on the landing, looking lost. He watched the team rush past him, getting to work. And he just felt... stupid - he'd been strung along with a couple of stranger, looking for... What? An adventure? Why on earth had he...? He sighed. John started to limp his way down the stairs again.

He looked around as he left the building; at the officers, the forensics team, the police tape, the police vans. The police wouldn't forget his face after this, would they? Sherlock Holmes and Charlie James didn't seem the type to bring along friends. _Shit._ He looked around again, but neither 'consulting detective' was in sight. "They're gone" He looked round to see Sergeant Donovan, her arms folded, a sardonic expression on her face.

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"And Charlotte James. They just took off - they do that. Or rather, he does that and she follows on."

John blinked, then nodded, "Are they coming back?"

"Didn't look like it"

Internally he damned himself, but he refused to let it show. "...right. Right, yes, sorry ...um, where am I?"

"Brixton"

"... where would I get a cab? It's just... well, my leg..."

She looked him up and down pitifully, "Try the main road" John nodded, and turned briskly, going to walk off away from _this_ as quickly as possible. "Hey!" John looked back, "You're not their friend, they don't have friends - just each other, whatever they are in that regards. ... So who are you?"

He was confused, by everything she had just said, "I'm- I'm nobody, I only just met them"

"Bit of advice then; stay away from them"

John blinked. "Why?"

Her eyes narrowed, and a vague look of annoyance crossed her features. "You know _why_ they're here? They're not paid or anything. They _like_ it. They get off on it, together. Weirder the crime, the more they get off. And you know what? One day it won't be enough. One day we'll be standing round a body, and those two will be the ones who put it there."

Charlie examined the streets from where she stood atop the building, by Sherlock's side. She was searching every street for the clue they needed. Sherlock stood tall beside her, his lips moving in cinque with the conversation below, adding in the names of whoever was speaking for Charlie's sake, "John - _why would they do that?_ Donovan - _because they're psychopaths, and psychopaths get bored_." Charlie's eye twitched just the tiniest fraction. "Lestrade called Donovan, she walked away" His voice was unnaturally even as he relayed the conversation, reading it on their lips even from such a distance.

Charlie could see it happening in her minds eye - John Watson would return to the flat, get the few things he'd left there so far then disappear forever. She was beginning to question why she had suggested another roommate in the first place. It wasn't like they didn't have access to money, not like they needed someone else to keep things going. She had just thought... She sighed. Maybe she had been wrong.

John spotted them and she watched him for a few moments. Behind the soldier, a public telephone started to ring. He ignored it. Good, it was definitely Mycroft. Charlie sighed, her eyes gazing at the familiar skyline for a few moments until they returned to the streets below. The phone stopped ringing as John walked away.


	8. Suitcase

Mycroft was persistent until he reached John. The usual course of events went ahead; Mycroft got John on the phone, sent a car, took him somewhere vaguely ominous and out the way and offered him money to spy on Sherlock and Charlie. Not only did that not scare John off, he refused the money as well. Charlie was impressed, though Sherlock wished John would have double crossed his brother.

Charlie sat just off centre of the sofa, looking up something on her phone. Sherlock lay across the sofa, his arse on Charlie's lap, his ankles crossed up on the cushioned arm, a pillow beneath his head where it rested on the other. He was incredibly still, staring at the ceiling. His laptop was sitting on his chest, Charlie had his phone in her hand along with her own - the last time Sherlock had used it was when he's text John. There were papers, documents scattered across the coffee table - Charlie glanced at them occasionally. They heard the unmistakable sound of someone ascending the stairs.

As John entered the room, Sherlock began to fiddle with the patches on his arm. John stopped, looked at them, one then the other and back again. "What are you _doing_?"

Sherlock's face twitched slightly, before he removed his hand, showing John his arm, "Nicotine patch, helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days - bad news for brain work" he grumbled. Charlie silently rolled her eyes.

"Good news for breathing" John retaliated, taking a few steps further into the room.

"Oh breathing, breathing's _boring_ " Sherlock scoffed, clearly in an irritable mood.

John leant forward, frowning as he counted, " _Three_ patches?"

"It's a three patch problem" they both answered him in unison. Neither of them moved or looked in his direction though.

"Well?" John asked, "You asked me to come. I'm _assuming_ it's important"

"Oh yes, of course" he said, seeming to have just remembered about it, "Can I borrow your phone?"

John stared. _What?_ "... my phone?!"

"Don't want to use mine - aways a chance the number'll be recognised. It's on the website"

"Charlie's _right there_ " he pointed out irritated.

Charlie plainly replied, "He's not allowed my phone" Sherlock gave a gesture towards her as if to say _'see?'_.

"Mrs Hudson also has a phone" John was now frowning, unamused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Yeah but she's downstairs. I tried shouting, she didn't hear me."

"I was on the other side of London!"

"There was no hurry" the younger man extended his hand, waiting to be given the phone.

Seething, John handed it to him, "What's this about? The case?"

" _Her_ case"

"Her _case_?"

Charlie sighed, "Her suitcase"

Sherlock continued, "Yes obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. The first big mistake"

John sat, running his hand over his face, "Okay, he took her suitcase. So?'

Sherlock looked at Charlie for a few seconds, to John they looked like they were having a telepathic conversation. He looked at John, "... it's no use. There's no other way, we'll have to risk it. There's a phone number on the desk - I want you to send a text."

John blinked. "You brought me here to send a text."

"A text, yes, the number on the desk" Sherlock insisted. John didn't move. "What's wrong?"

He sighed, sitting back, "... I just met a friends of yours."

Slowly Charlie raised her eyes to the ceiling, taking a long deep breath and sighing silently. Of course she knew who it would be - it had to be, there was really only one person. "A friend" Sherlock scoffed.

John corrected, "An enemy"

"Oh" he sounded relieved, "Which one?"

John frowned, only getting more annoyed by the conversation, "Your arch enemy - according to him. Do people _have_ arch enemies?"

"He offered you money to spy on us, yeah?" Charlie's look of sympathy was out of place amongst the conversation.

"Yes"

"Did you take it?" Sherlock's attention had returned to his laptop.

" _No_ "

"Pity. We could've split it - think it through next time"

"Who i _s_ he?" John was staring at the pair.

"The most dangerous man you've ever met and _not_ my problem right now. On my desk, the number!" he urged again.

Charlie shot Sherlock a look, "He'll be your problem soon enough if you don't text him back" she grumbled to him. He shot her a quick look, but pouted for a moment to himself, knowing she was right.

Begrudgingly John went to get the phone number, "... Jennifer Wilson? That was... hang on, wasn't that the _dead_ woman?"

"Yes, doesn't matter, just enter the number." Sherlock blazed past the comment with very little interest. "Are you doing it?"

"Yes-"

"Have you done it?"

"Hang on, yes"

"Now, these words exactly," Sherlock said, though he was still talking to John he was looking at Charlie, "'what happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come"

John frowned, _what?_ "... you blacked out?"

"What? No, _no._ Type and send, quickly" Sherlock jumped up, diving off into the kitchen. Charlie leisurely got to her feet and stretched, twisting and cracking her back, one way then the other. She stepped out of the way as Sherlock dived back into the room energetically, carrying a bright pink suitcase in hand. "Sent it yet?" he asked John

He glanced up but wasn't really paying too much attention, "What was the address?"

"22 Northumberland Street" Charlie said, leaning on the edge of the sofa now.

Sherlock was impatient, "Hurry up" Lifting the case higher he thumped it down onto the coffee table, spinning it round and opening it.

Then John looked round, seeing the case the dots began to join together, "That's... that's the pink lady's case... _Jennifer Wilson's_ case..."

"Yes" Charlie nodded, watching on with a little smile on her lips, clearly at least a little excited about the suitcase, "Of course, I should say, we didn't kill her"

John blinked. The softness of Charlie's voice didn't suit the comment she'd passed. "... I never said you did"

"Why not?" Sherlock said, loudly, "Given the text I just had you send, and the fact that we have the case, it would be a perfectly logical assumption"

John just frowned, looking between them. Charlie was so small, in height and stature - there wasn't much muscle on her at all, and Sherlock, he was all limbs, too gangly, gaunt. They didn't seem to have much physical strength between them. As strange as they were, John doubted they could kill someone. "Do people usually assume you're the murderers?"

Charlie nodded. Sherlock said, "Now and then, yes."

"... Okay. So how did you get this?" he gestured to the case.

"By looking"

"Where?"

Sherlock took a breath, and began, "The killer must have driven her to Lauriston gardens. He could only keep the case by accident, if it was in a car. No-one would be seen with this case without attracting attention - particularly a man, which is statistically likely. So obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it - wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake. We checked every back street wide enough for a car within five minutes of Lauriston Gardens and looked for anywhere you could dispose a bulky object without being observed. Took less than an hour to find the right skip."

"... Pink. You got all that because you realised that the suitcase would be pink"

Sherlock had a bright glint of ego in his eyes, "It had to be pink. Obviously."

John marveled to himself, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're an idiot"

John's eyes snapped to him and he frowned deeply. Charlie stood off the edge of the sofa, "Don't take offense, John"

"Yes, practically everyone is an idiot" Sherlock added. "Now look, do you see what's missing?"

John nearly scoffed, "From her _case_? How could I?"

"It's her phone" Charlie said. From the mood Sherlock was in she knew he'd want to rant and show off, and she would rather he didn't.

Of course that didn't stop him. "Her _phone_! Where was her mobile phone? No phone on the body, no phone in the case. We know she _has_ one - the number's right there and you've just texted it"

John looked puzzled, "Maybe she left it at home"

"She has a string of lovers, and she's careful about it - she _never_ leaves it at home." Sherlock snapped.

Charlie watched on, she could see the cogs in John's brain working, "So why did I send that text?"

"The question is" Sherlock said, "where is the phone now?"

"She could have lost it? John suggested.

"Yes. Or?"

"...the murderer? You think the _murderer_ has the phone?"

Charlie nodded, "It seems likely - maybe she left it at the same time as she left the case, or maybe the murderer took it, either way, likelihood is that the murderer has it"

John frowned deeply, looking just a little disturbed, "So wait, what are we doing here? Did we just text a murderer? What good does _that_ do?" John jumped a little as his phone started to ring.

Immediately Sherlock snatched it up, looking at the number on screen, "A few hours since his last victim and now he's got a text which can only be from her. Now someone who'd just found the phone would ignore a text like that, but the murderer," the phone fell silent abruptly, "would _panic_ "

Sherlock jumped to his feet, pulling his coat off the stand and pulling it on before handing Charlie her's.

"Have you talked to the police?" John asked in concern.

"Isn't enough time" Charlie said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

"Four people are dead, John" Sherlock added.

"Then why are you talking to _me_?"

Sherlock screwed up his face, "Mrs Hudson took away my skull"

John looked to where the skull had been sitting on the mantle of the fireplace earlier, to see that it was in fact missing now, "But why don't you just talk at Charlie like you did before?"

Charlie laughed, "He already has - after that he tends to turn to the skull"

John looked at Sherlock, "So I'm basically filling in for your skull"

"Relax, you're doing fine" Sherlock smiled, " _Well_?"

"Well what?"

Charlie smirked, "Well, you could just sit here and watch TV, _or_..."

"You want me to come with you?" He looked from Sherlock, to Charlie and back.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked.

John started, "Sergeant Donovan..."

Charlie sighed shortly. Sherlock asked, "What about her?"

"She said you get off on this. You enjoy it"

"Sally Donovan says _a lot_ of things." Charlie muttered.

But Sherlock smiled, "And I said _dangerous_ and here you are" Pointedly, Sherlock turned and walked out the door, Charlie just a step behind. They left the door lying wide open, confidently.

"Damn it" John breathed, following.


	9. Angelo's

John hurried, trying to catch up with the pair, "Where are we going?"

"Northumberland Street" Charlie answered, looking back over her shoulder, "It's five minutes walk from here"

John looked between Charlie and the back of Sherlock's head, "You think he's stupid enough to go there"

"No" Sherlock said with a grin, "I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones - they're so desperate to be caught"

"Why?"

"Appreciation! Applause!" Sherlock burled round dramatically, arms thrown wide. Charlie couldn't help but laugh. "At long last, the spotlight! That's the frailty of genius, John - it needs an audience"

John wanted to cringe at the almost manic smile on the detective's face. "Yeah" he said, slowly.

Sherlock's eyes searched the street, watching every person briefly as the went past, trying to think out the problem. "This is his hunting round. Right here in the heart if the city." he addressed Charlie, talking it out to her like he'd done at the crime scene. "We know that the victims here abducted, and that changes everything. Because all his victims disappear from crowded places, from busy streets, but no-one saw them go. They walked out of their lives with a complete stranger, and trusted him right to the moment that they swallowed his poison. He can do the impossible this one, he needs to take a bow"

"If it is a 'he' " John queried, "The pink lady wrote down 'Rachel' "

"Yes, that's odd. Until we know who Rachel is there's no point in speculating. Mustn't theorise in advance of the facts"

Charlie shook her head, "You've done that plenty of times"

"Yes but only to you" he said, with an almost childlike logic. Then he sighed harshly, "Think, though, think. Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?"

John asked, "Who?"

Sherlock shrugged, "Haven't the faintest idea. Hungry?"

"Angelo's?" Charlie asked with a hopeful smile.

"Of course"

Angelo's wasn't far away. Soon enough, Sherlock was holding the door open for them both. "Hello Mr Holmes, Miss James"

"Thank you Billy" Sherlock replied with a curt smile.

Charlie indicated to John to go ahead first, holding back a pace to walk by Sherlock's side. Billy showed them to the table, waiting until the three of them sat; Charlie next to Sherlock, and John across.

"Funny to see you two with company" Billy commented to Charlie, who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Hilarious" she smiled.

"The usual drinks?"

"Yes, please - anytime you're ready" she teased.

Sherlock sat back with a discreet smile, watching the woman by his side. "Thank you, Billy"

The young waiter nodded and turned away. Sherlock looked to John, "22 Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it"

John looked back and forth between Sherlock, Charlie and the street opposite. "I mean, he's not just going to ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd have to be mad"

"We'll he's killed four people, John" Charlie said.

"Okay..." John rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Suddenly, a booming voice came, " _Sherlock! Charlie!_ "

"Angelo" Charlie greeted with a wide grin.

"Anything on the menu, whatever you want - free! All on the house, you two and your date"

"Do you want to eat, John?" Charlie asked, looking to the older man who was staring after the last passing comment.

"I'm- I'm not their date" John clarified, quickly.

Angelo stood behind Sherlock and Charlie, placing a hand on one of their shoulders, "These two, they got me off a murder charge!"

John's eyes widened. Sherlock began to explain, "This is Angelo. Three years ago we successfully proved to Lestrade that at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder, Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house breaking."

Angelo beamed, "They cleared my name"

"Cleared it a bit" Charlie scoffed, "Anything happening opposite?"

He shook his head, "We've been keeping an eye out." He dug into his pocket for his phone, unlocking it quickly he clicked onto his photos and showed the screen to Charlie and Sherlock, "Just this man, he stopped for a minute"

"Oh, he's just drunk" Charlie said, boldly unimpressed.

"Also married with a dog" Sherlock commented.

"We all are in the end" Angelo added wistfully.

Charlie rolled her eyes, "It's hardly relevant, Sherlock"

He shot her a playful look. "Married with a dog. Keep your eyes peeled" he added, directly to Angelo.

"I'm on the case" he beamed, proud. He turned to look at John, "But for these two, I'd have gone to prison"

"You did" Charlie said, eyes now on her phone.

Angelo nodded, "I'll get you a candle for the table - more romantic"

"I'm not their date!" John protested, panicking again. Charlie laughed quietly to herself, though whether it was at her phone, or John's comment, it wasn't clear. Menus were shoved in front of them, then Angelo bustled away.

There was a moment of silence, before Sherlock said to John, "You may as well eat - we might have a long wait"

Charlie takes a glance at the menu, but apparently had already made up her mind before she did. Sherlock was staring out into the street, but he had his arm across the back of Charlie's chair. She was sitting forward slightly, he wasn't actually touching her - but it was a protective gesture. John had noticed that Sherlock seemed to get more protective of her when they were out in public.

Angelo returned with a candle that he sat in the middle of the table and lit. John looked increasingly awkward. "Thanks" he mumbled.

Charlie and John ordered, and Sherlock didn't seem to have even notice that Angelo had come back - he didn't order anything. The meal passed in silence, Charlie multitasked between her phone and eating her pizza, while John tried to decide whether to take his time with his pasta or not.

When he was almost finished, John finally asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue. "People don't have arch-enemies" Alright, it wasn't exactly a question, but it had to be said.

Charlie and Sherlock both returned their attention to him; an experience which John found to be slightly overwhelming, like an interview or something like that. Sherlock replied, "I'm sorry?"

"In real life." John continued hesitantly, "There are no arch-enemies in real life, it doesn't happen"

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull"

"So who was that guy?"

Charlie shook her head, "Never mind him John, he's not someone you should worry about"

John was about to reply to that, when Sherlock asked instead, "What do real people have then? In their real lives?" It was a smart arse comment, but one he was ready to press an answer for.

"Friends." John said, "People they know. People they like, people they don't like. Girlfriends, boyfriends..."

Sherlock huffed almost triumphantly, "Yes, well like I was saying - dull"

John decided then to risk asking another question that had been on the tip of this tongue, "So you two... you aren't...?"

"No." Charlie answered, quite succinctly.

"But... you have an... arrangement?"

"Yes."

"So...?"

"We don't have sex, John, if that's what you're trying to ask." Charlie said with a deadly serious expression - until this point he had taken her as the kinder of the two, but that look was enough to make him reconsider.

"Okay... yeah, okay. So you just sleep in the same bed"

"Yes."

"And neither of you have... someone?"

"No - it's not really our thing" Charlie said, starting to relax a fraction. Sherlock had noticeably said nothing on the subject, though he watched Charlie the whole time, his expression softer than usual.

"And you two don't have... another... someone? Not that there's anything wrong with that"

"No, there's not"

"So there's...?"

"No"

"Right" John breathed, "Okay. Unattached. Like me. Fine, good"

Sherlock had started to frown. "... John you should know, I consider myself married to my work."

"As do I" Charlie added.

"Yes, and while we're flattered by your interest, we're really not looking for any kind of-"

"No, no!' John interrupted, embarrassed, "I wasn't asking you out - either of you, or both of you or anything. I'm just saying, it's all fine!" John panicked slightly.

"Good" Sherlock said, "Thank you"

"... but, seriously, an arch-enemy though? What's that meant to mean?"

"Nothing in real life apparently," Sherlock shot back. He turns his head back to the window, "Take a look over there"

John looked, then he stared.


End file.
